


Please...

by Aztecl



Series: Whumptober 2020: Natasha Romanoff [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. References, Angst, Awesome Clint Barton, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Gen, Hospitals, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Going to Hell, Illusions, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, POV Natasha Romanov, Protective Clint Barton, Russian Natasha Romanov, Whump, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:09:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aztecl/pseuds/Aztecl
Summary: Waking up in the hospital—? Usually not good. Waking up in a hospital located in a foreign country, sepperated from your partner—? Well, that's even worse.WHUMPTOBER NO. 6 - PLEASE..."Get it out", No More, "Please, stop"
Series: Whumptober 2020: Natasha Romanoff [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1949368
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Please...

Waking up in the hospital—? Usually not good. Waking up in a hospital located in a foreign country, sepperated from your partner—? Well, that's even worse.

Natasha woke up feeling only pain. Her stomach felt like it was on fire and she couldn't move her left arm very far. Were her eyes open, or was the fuzziness in her head that strong? _Red flag number one._ Was any of this even real anymore? Natasha had been taught to _not_ panic. Here she was — panicking. She wished she had a location on Clint. The last thing Natasha remembered was being on a mission in London with her partner, leaving in a hurry from the Avengers Compound to stop some sort of old S.H.I.E.L.D prisoner from doing something bad. It was all a massive blur.

The door to her hospital room suddenly opened. Somebody walked in and quitely shut the door behind them. _Red flag number two._

The doctor carried a small machine in his hands that Natasha didn't recognize. He grabbed her IV, the assassin immediately started faking sleep. Mystery-Doctor added what Natasha assumed to be more drugs. She was surprised the drugs were working this well. Part of Red Room training had consisted of building up immunity the most substances, but here's the assassin now: pumped full of medicinal drugs and _still_ in pain. Thanks, Ivan! Note the sarcasm.

Natasha couldn't see very much due to the spots in her vision, but definitely recognized the sound of a drawer opening and closing. The doctor was barely in the hospital for a minute before walking back out into what Natasha assumed to be a hallway. _Red flag number three._

How many red flags does it take to make an assassin paranoid? Trick question — they're already paranoid about every little thing.

As soon as the door shut, Natasha lifted a shaky hand (damn these drugs) and pulled out her IV. Something dripped out the end of it and she hastily moved her hand back under the blanket, hidden from anyone's sight in case they entered the room again. Her arm stung a little from the IV and newly injected medication. _No more,_ Natasha thought with a slight sense of triumph. She realized that she was sporting a cerulean cotton shirt, bottom part cut off and replaced with heavy bandaging, and matching pants.

Minutes passed by. Natasha counted off the seconds, fighting the urge to let her body sleep and heal from whatever the hell had gone wrong on her and Clint's mission. She even switched into German, Italian, and finally Latin before drifting off and feeling the IV slip from her hands beneath the blanket.

Talk about terrible timing. When Natasha opened her eyes again, she looked into the eyes of Mystery-Doctor. She mentally cursed.

He grinned with a glint of mischief in his eyes, something that would haunt Natasha for awhile. "Finally awake, Natalia? Good. It's time to have a bit of fun." She didn't know what was more terrifying: his Russian accent or the use of her real name. _Fuck_.

Another IV was immediately inserted into the skin by her elbow. Natasha blinked away the fuzziness in her vision and tried to focus. She felt like a spectator in her own body, trapped and too helpless to do much except stare at the doctor. Natasha wasn't a doctor, but the assassin knew that her veins should definitely _not_ be turning _purple_ , almost black in color. A lump formed at the back of her throat.

"Y'know, we never used all of our experimental drugs on the recruits," the doctor said. "This one is a little something we've always called _spitfayr_ _—_ spitfire. It's been sitting in a safe spot for the past few decades, dating back to when you weren't even a student at our fine institute."

" _Fine institute?"_ Natasha hated how hoarse her voice sounded, but her throat seemed to be swelling up more by the minute. "Not exactly the word I would use."

He glared. "I guess I should introduce myself. Doctor Leonid Lebedev, pleased to meet you."

"Go to hell."

If she could've gasped, Natasha would've. A burning pain went up in her stomach and spread up her esophagus into the throat. Her hands twitched, but couldn't move anywhere higher. Natasha almost thought she was having a seizure with how bad her body was shaking. Something moved inside her. She wondered again why there were bandages on her stomach. A horrible thought came together in Natasha's head.

"I—"

"Hydra wasn't the only one who experimented with super soldier serums, you know that better than anyone. We've been working together lately to improve the original elements of _spitfayr_ and add in some... Let's say some touches from our friends on the other side of space."

Natasha vaguely recalled a big space rock, called the Monolith, that could melt down into a portal and lead to another planet. S.H.I.E.L.D had deemed it as an object of no known origin and held possession. Where was it now? What the hell was on that planet? Natasha really hoped it had nothing to do with the Chitauri, because honestly — an invasion on New York was enough for one lifetime, yes?

Natasha screamed. She didn't usually scream.

A new voice, somewhere distant, yelled something indistinguishable.

To her surprise, no doctors or nurses came running down the hall. Nope, a patient screaming for mercy and hearing voices was just a common occurrence in London. She was barely able to move other than her writhing of blinding white pain. Natasha saw her stomach expand to accommodate something else — an alien creature perhaps. Willing herself to breath in and out, the usually flawless assassin failed miserably at her task. Her throat was officially closed off from the stark (no pun intended) abundance of oxygen in the air. Natasha wanted to lose her breakfast and listen to her instincts: "Get it out!"

Just when her vision started darkening, a bright flash went throughout the hospital. Natasha realized she hadn't heard Leonid in a while. What the fuck was going on? It was almost like... Like none of this real. Had the infamous Black Widow finally gone insane under the pressure of everything — the Red Room, S.H.I.E.L.D's collapse, Sokovia, and now the _spitfayr?_

"Stop, please!" She cried out to nobody.

The hazy hospital scene shifted to show a dark orange room with no IVs, no Leonid, and no stupid alien monsters. Natasha steadied her breathing. She noticed how she was not injured and instead wearing her usual tactical suit. Clint hovered over her and announced: "Oh, Tasha! Yes! I was really hoping that would work."

In his hands, was a pair of glowing purple goggles and small circles with wires attached. None of it was real, just a manifestation of Natasha's corrupt mind. She melted into her best friend's arms, feeling nothing but numb and grateful.

_See you in hell someday, Leonid._


End file.
